Random thoughts, dubious rants, curiosities and worthy citations on the media, politics, marketing, music, inanity, and animals, among other things. Words and pictures and stuff, mostly from south central Wisconsin USA

11 September 2012

Sitting with Shadow, watching the world change

[This is the second time I've posted a "rerun" of this post, and the only one to ever be repeated at all. It's a post that is both a personal favorite, and is the closest I come to having a positive memory about September 11th, 2001. It was first posted on September 11, 2007.]

Those who know me know that I’m not a morning person. Getting up
early is something I’ve avoided most of my life, dating back to when
had to get up at 5AM to deliver the Chicago Tribune. I’m not proud of
the fact that I have a reputation for avoiding early meetings and
rolling into the office sometime a little after 9:30. So it was not
unusual that on September 11th six years ago, I didn’t get out of bed
until after Tom was gone and his clock radio had already turned itself
off.

That particular morning, I ambled into the kitchen in search of
coffee and then went to fetch the paper from the front porch. It was a
beautiful day in Chicago, and I wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. For
whatever reason, I didn’t turn on the radio in the den as I read the
paper. It wasn’t until around 8:30 when I returned to the kitchen for a
refill that I first became aware something was not right.

Tom had left the kitchen radio tuned to the classical station. They
didn’t really do news, just weather and a little bit of headlines. So
it stopped me when the announcer, one of those dignified and measured
voices, told his listeners that, “a plane… no, two planes have crashed
into the World Trade Center in New York.” I remember the wording so
clearly. While still retaining that classical music guy voice, that
there was something very wrong was unmistakable.

I got my coffee and went back to the den to turn on CNN. The images,
as we all know, were both horrifying and riveting. I was dumbfounded.
Instead of sitting in one of the comfy club chairs across the small
room, I dragged the ottoman right up to the TV. Maybe I thought if I
sat closer to the screen I would understand better what the hell was
happening. The images went back and forth from a live shot to the loop
of the second aircraft’s impact. Memory of what the anchors were
saying, as well as what I was muttering, is a little murky now. But
what I remember so well was how I was not alone. A trusted and loyal
friend sensed I was upset, that something was wrong and I needed
support. So at some point, as I sat hunched in front to the television,
Shadow came up and sat by my side.

Shadow was the older of our two Newfoundland dogs, our “dog in
charge,” as I called her. She was an imposing figure, a presence that
could not be ignored. But in this circumstance, she sat silently by my
side. That’s what Newfoundlands do. The breed is known for this strong,
silent self-assuredness. Their way of moderating a situation is to
quietly but firmly insert themselves into the middle of what is going
on.

For
an unknown number of minutes, I sat there with my arm around her,
rocking back and forth. “Oh, Shadow. This is bad. This is really bad.
Oh, man, Shadow.” Eventually, she got up and stood in the narrow space
between the television and me. I’m not sure, but I think she was
telling me we had seen enough.

We all can say where we were and what we were doing as the events of
September 11, 2001 unfolded. I went on to prepare for work, check in
with Tom, and try to reach a good friend whose partner worked in lower
Manhattan. Seemingly oblivious to the possibility of a much wider
threat, I drove to work only to be waved off by building security. I
went to our friend’s place to sit with Evan while he tried to make
contact with John, who was finally able to get a text message out that
he was OK and heading uptown to stay with friends. Other friends came
by and we walked through the Lincoln Park neighborhood to look for a
place to eat. Store after store, even Starbucks, were closed. The one
open restaurant was overwhelmed. Fighter jets flew overhead.

The world had, indeed, changed.

As time slips by, and the powerful mix of emotions is given
perspective, the memories of that day remain strong. Shadow’s gone now;
she died in February. But today as we all reflect in our own way about
the horrors of 9/11, the memory that brings me the most comfort is of
that intuitive action of a loyal and unconditionally loving friend. Is
this odd: That among all the jagged and abrasive images and feelings I
have of that day, the one that comes up first is the comfort provided
by a dog?

Comments

wow! Dave its an amazing story and it brings me back i was a freshman at SHS watching it on tv to another tv in another class room. how my head wondered what just happend to seeing a girl running and screaming down the hall because some how her father was involved some how. watching the screen wondering why us what did we do oh so badly to have this happen for the life of me i couldnt figure out why i had tears in my eyes and my heart in my throat. everyone was running to the store to stock up on food i lived near a gas station and the line was a mile long. we couldnt watch anything on tv that had to do with what was going on because of ryan being so mentally behind if he caught news of what happend he wouldnt sleep and possiblely "lose" it and end up in a hospital. so i would sneek to the basement to watch what was going on and what we were gonna do. i didnt go to school the next day because my heart was so broken for everyone who passed and those that were hurt. sadly a year earlyer my bestfriend inlisted in the Air Force and i knew in my gut if we did something hed have to go at 14 thats alot to handle. he was everything and my mom loved him like family so days passed and when we dropped the first bomb i was happy but in no way did i think we would still be at war. we caught who we wanted now time to leave them be.